


Passage

by Musyc



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: AU, Daydreams, F/M, Hermione Granger - character, Post-Hogwarts, Potions, Research, Severus Snape - character, giftfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-22
Updated: 2013-01-22
Packaged: 2017-11-26 11:54:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/650253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Musyc/pseuds/Musyc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione has research troubles, an unexpected dream, and a decision.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Passage

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Inspired_Ideas (Inspire)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inspire/gifts).



> Written in 2010 as a birthday gift for Inspire. The first time I'd ever written the pairing, as I normally avoid Snape like the plague. XD 
> 
> Original A/N: My apologies to Chaucer, from whom I borrowed the Middle English words, but since he was a pretty impressive borrower himself, I don't think he'll mind. AU, post-canon.

Hermione drummed her fingers on the worktable as she puzzled her way through the archaic language of the scroll. She turned up the oil lamp, bent over the parchment, and drew one nail under a line of the elegant script. It made less sense to her every time she read it, and she took up the parchment with a sigh. She stormed into the next room, brandishing the scroll at the newspaper that blocked Severus' face. "While I appreciate that you've agreed to let me go through your archives, I would have appreciated it a bit more if you had some sort of organization in the place. Someone should have translated this scroll years ago. It's impossible to figure out. What on earth is this potion even supposed to do?"

Severus bent down the top half of his paper and peered at her over it. Rita Skeeter simpered upside-down, long talons seeming to flash scarlet despite the sepia tones of the photograph, as she grasped the arm of the Cannons' newest Keeper. "What are you complaining about, Miss Granger?"

Hermione stomped one foot and slapped the parchment over top of the newspaper. Severus skimmed the handwriting, then looked away, his lips twitching. "I never translated that potion recipe because I knew I would never make it. One of the ingredients is impossible for me to obtain."

Hermione snorted and jerked the parchment away. She ground her teeth, shoved a wayward curl out of her eyes, and stared at her former professor. Cheated death with a decade-long regimen of antidotes against poisons and venoms, and still as infuriating as ever. While his words held the ring of truth, there was a peculiar look on his face. He seemed uncomfortable, with a color rising into his cheeks that almost made him look embarrassed. "I have been through every supply you own," she said, folding her arms under her breasts, "including your locked cabinet, your secret cabinet, and your hidden, disguised, warded cabinets. You have Yeti claws, Naga tears, and six feathers from a Nycticorax, which is especially impressive because that bird has been extinct for over five hundred years. Impossible to obtain? Pull the other one."

"I do not care to discuss this any further." Severus crumpled his paper and shoved out of the chair. He gripped the back of it, fingers digging into the threadbare cushion as his knee gave way. Hermione didn't reach for him, as much as she wanted to. Severus hated being treated as an invalid, even when he needed the help. He looked at her, his face a deep pink that looked ridiculously incongruent with his dark eyes and furrowed brows. "Leave it, Miss Granger. I won't ever make that one, so it hardly matters what it does. Amuse yourself with any of the others, but leave that alone." He limped into the kitchen, and she heard the rattle and clank of the tea kettle. "In fact," he called to her, "burn that scroll. It's as useless to me as your friend Longbottom."

\---

_From the lippe and round cheek,_  
ful softe and reed,  
of a womman boold and charitable,  
leet the strem falle from the root of man,  
no drope dronken,  
an offryinge ful pleasaunt, of milk sheen  
to meke a draughte, fine and newe 

Hermione growled and thumped her head onto the desk. It made no sense. It made. No. _Sense_. She had the individual words translated after some effort, but putting them together into something coherent was driving her mad. Grumbling, she scratched out another line on her workpad. "This isn't working," she muttered.

"He told you to leave it alone." The nasal voice drew her head up and she glared at the small, dusty portrait she'd found hidden in one of the cabinets. Severus had said it was a former Potions professor, a rude and arrogant one at that. The irony had kept her in stitches for days. 

Hermione slumped in her chair. "He knows very little about me if he thought I actually would." This was the opportunity for research, the chance to learn something that no one else knew. How could she leave that alone? "I just want to know what it does. What's this ingredient that he claims he can't get? He can get anything. How could this _one_ ingredient be so difficult for him?"

"Not that hard for plenty of people, maybe. Difficult for some. Impossible for him." The portrait professor blew a feather out of his face and readjusted his elaborate hat. "Are you really that dense?"

Hermione growled again. If she hated anything, she hated having her intelligence questioned. "I am not dense," she said through gritted teeth. "I'm simply having a little ... confusion. I'll work it out. I always do."

The portrait snorted, but Hermione ignored it, returning to her work. She scribbled over her workpad as the oil lamp faded, as her head drooped lower and lower. Maybe just a few minutes to rest, she thought. Just a few minutes to close her eyes and take a small break. It wouldn't do to continue exhausted. That was never good. Just a few minutes.

\---

"Hermione." The deep voice came from behind her. She raised her head and glanced over her shoulder. In the shadows of the corridor outside the workroom, long dark robes moved. Severus stepped into the room, his head bowed. "Hermione, I must apologize for my behavior earlier. I'm afraid I was rather rude about that recipe, but I had my reasons for it. Perhaps they weren't good reasons, but they were--" He cleared his throat and looked at her, his black eyes shining like onyx in the lamplight.

"It's all right," she said, turning her chair to face him. "I understand. I figured it out. I translated the scroll." Her heart beat against her ribs. She stretched out one hand and took hold of his wrist, tugging him closer. He took a hesitant step, then another, and she spread her feet wide to let him stand between them. Severus settled his free hand on her hair. "Don't be nervous," she told him. "I know what you need."

She released his wrist and reached for his robes. He trembled. One leg moved. Hermione looked up to him. "Severus. Let me." She slipped her hand into his robes, unsurprised that the heavy garment was all he wore. Severus preferred austerity and disdained what he called 'unnecessary coddling'. Scratchy wool against his skin, chill drafts up his legs - he would consider it one of the required elements of proper wizard garb. 

She dragged her fingers across his stomach and over his hip. It had taken her some time, but she'd finally figured out what the potion required, and why it was so difficult for him to acquire the ingredient in question. A milky-white stream, from a man's root, falling from a woman's red lips and cheeks. She'd just have to remember not to swallow. 

Severus gave a soft groan and threaded his fingers through her hair as she pushed his robes open. "Hermione. Are you quite--"

"I'm sure. My only question is if you can stand long enough." She licked her lips and smiled at him. "I'm _bold_ enough to give it a gamble."

\--- 

Hermione sat up with a gasp, a scrap of parchment stuck to her forehead and her quill dangling from her fringe. She scrubbed at her cheeks and lips, then stared at her hands. Damp, but from spilled ink. A dream. She'd been dreaming. It had given her the answer, though, and she felt her skin heat. It hadn't been an _unpleasant_ dream, by any stretch of her imagination, but it had surprised her. She'd never thought of him like that.

She shook her head. That was a lie. She'd thought of him as strong, determined, clever, creative - all things she found attractive in a man. The difference in their ages mattered little in wizarding society; the difference in their attitudes was nothing new to her. 

She sat up straight, turned the oil lamp high, and transfigured two scraps of parchment into a mirror and handkerchief. As she scrubbed the ink off her face, she considered her dream, considered her options. She neatened her work area, ignoring the scroll with the recipe on it. She started to leave the room, then paused at the door. With a huff and a toss of her hair, she whipped around. She snatched up the scroll, stuffed it into her pocket, and went to the kitchen where she found Severus hunched over a plate of beans. "I'm leaving for the day," she told him.

He made a noncommittal sound without looking up, and chased a bean across the plate with his fork. "I assume you will return Monday, Miss Granger. There's still work to be done."

"I will." She chewed her lip, watching him, then nodded to herself. "And on Monday, you will start calling me Hermione. It's time a few things changed around here."


End file.
